


Betrothed to the Barbarian

by saphire_dance



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Accidental kidnapping, Kidnapping, M/M, barbarian au, bridenapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 08:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11755659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphire_dance/pseuds/saphire_dance
Summary: rudeicusdudeicus on tumblr postedBarbarian au where a completely clueless Tailgate somehow manages to accidentally bridenap Decepticon warrior CyclonusI could not resist such a story idea.





	1. Tailgate

**Author's Note:**

> Title is an actual Harlequin Romance title and I won't apologize for it

Tailgate has a little hut outside the city walls. Housing was listed as a perk of the job, and it isn’t a bad little home, but it is meant to keep Tailgate out of sight and out of mind. No one wanted to be neighbors with a sanitation worker. The idea that he might smell bad was ridiculous to Tailgate. He is as fastidious about his own cleanliness as he is about the city’s.

Of course, the stream behind his house is a great help in washing off the day's work before he ever sets a pede inside. Tailgate had been looking forward to his bath all day. He’d waded out up to his waist in the stream before he’d noticed something wasn’t quite right. On the shore on the other side of the stream was one of the largest mechs Tailgate had ever seen.

Tailgate squeaked, falling back in the water. He’d heard stories about the dangerous nomads beyond the city walls, but had been promised none would come this close when he had accepted this job. He flailed back to his side of the stream, optics shut, as he waited for the nomad to attack.  
Nothing happened. He peeked at the mech again, but he hadn’t moved. In fact, now that Tailgate was looking the nomad seemed to be unconscious. Tailgate looked around for signs of any other nomads in the area, but it seemed like they were alone.

The smart thing to do would be to run back to the city gates and tell the guards, but when Tailgate stood up out of the water he noticed the energon leaking from a wound in the nomad’s side. If Tailgate left him out here he would surely die. Of course, if Tailgate fetched the guard they would kill him anyway and that hardly seemed fair.

Tailgate slowly waded across the stream, the water moved slowly here, and only came to his chest and the deepest parts. The large mech groaned softly, but didn't wake when Tailgate started to pull him across the stream. He was a very handsome mech, Tailgate couldn't help but notice. His plating was a deep purple not often seen in the cities. He wore a number of decorative necklaces and had a jeweled sword strapped to his back. Tailgate was almost mesmerized at the sight, and had to remind himself of the stranger's wound to keep him going. It was a shame one of his horns was broken, maybe he could fix that after he patched him up.

It wasn't easy to drag the nomad all the way to his hut, but Tailgate was stronger than he looked, and soon had the large mech sprawled across his berth. He was no medic, but he had a decent first aid kit, and he patched the mech up as best as he could. Hopefully, the mech would wake up soon and they could both go on their way. It was almost an afterthought that had him tying the mech to the berth and hiding his sword in the back of a cupboard. Tailgate wasn’t sure what the nomad would do if he woke up in a strange place and he didn’t want to take any chances.


	2. Cyclonus

Cyclonus stared up at the ceiling puzzled for far too long. This was not the healer’s tent, where he had expected to wake after the titanium moose had rammed into him during the hunt. It was not a tent at all. The ceiling was too smooth to be the clan’s wintering caves, and those were far to the south of where he had been. It was a structure unlike any he’d seen before.

He could not sit up much, tied to the strange bed as he was. The way the wound at his side ached it was probably for the best that he did not try to push himself farther yet. Cyclonus looked around the room the best he could. There were only four walls instead of the traditional six of his clan’s tents. Four walls, like the buildings of the cities they could sometimes see in the distance. For a moment he worried that he might have been taken prisoner, many of the braver traders who hawked their wares in some of the more friendly cities spoke of the strange bare cells they had been locked in when the cities turned out less friendly than expected. But this room was no bare cell. There were no bars on the window, and odd trinkets decorated every surface. This was someone’s home.

Cyclonus felt a warm flush as his spark pulsed wildly. In all his years, when he thought of taking a mate he had thought he would be the one taking a bride. And yet here he was, brought under a stranger’s roof. It was surprisingly exciting, though he had yet to see his prospective spouse. Cyclonus was quite willing to give them a chance just on the sheer daring alone.  
It wasn’t a long wait before his suitor appeared at the door of the room. A pretty little minibot, with gleaming white and turquoise plating. He spoke swiftly and softly in city speak, but Cyclonus couldn’t understand more than the word “Energon.” The little bot had brought a bright pink cube with him. Filtered and sweet, the energon of the city mechs was a rare treat out in the wilds, usually reserved for sparklings or for a courting gift. It was an impressive first offering, even from a city mech. 

The mech continued babbling as he approached cautiously. Cyclonus ignored the flow of unknown words in favor of looking him over. The guiding hand had surely blessed him to send him to such a lovely creature. The bot’s hands trembled slightly as he held the cube to Cyclonus’ lips. Cyclonus couldn’t blame him. He would no doubt tremble too if their positions were reversed. His response to this first offering would set the tone for their courtship. He could turn away or spit the energon back in his face. Such a sweet, hopeful face.   
Even with the visor and the mask he was very expressive.

Cyclonus drank the sweet energon, savoring the taste as much as he savored the experience of gazing into his suitor’s face as he shared his energon. It was more romantic than he’d ever dared dream. The little mech began speaking again, and Cyclonus listened carefully, trying to recall what few city words he had learned from the traders. Most of the was nonsense to Cyclonus’ audials, but then he caught a familiar phrase. An introduction. He repeated the sounds that came after. Certain it was his suitor’s name. “Tailgate?”

The little bot laughed, his visor brightening. “Yes. Tailgate.”

“Tailgate,” Cyclonus purred the name. He liked the way it rolled off his glossa, sweeter than the city energon. He lay back on the berth still exhausted by his injuries. He would give Tailgate a fair chance to prove himself, but if he was honest with himself he was already smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice the total chapter total count has updated. I can't seem to stop writing this.


	3. Tailgate

“Oh, you’re awake.” The nomad was half sitting up on the berth when Tailgate checked in on him. He froze in the doorway, feeling as if the mech could stare right through him and into his spark. “I… I brought some energon.” He lifted the cube for emphasis. The movement at least seemed to catch the nomad’s gaze. 

Tailgate inched his way slowly closer to the berth, ready to run if the nomad looked like he was going to attack. “I should apologize for tying you up. I am sorry. It was just in case. I mean they say terrible things about your people, and I’m sure they aren’t true, but…” The nomad was silent, and unmoving, merely watching. Maybe he didn’t understand what Tailgate was saying.

“I’ll see if the archives have a translation program when I go back into the city. I need to talk to a medic too. I mean I think you should be fine, but just in case.” Tailgate stopped at the edge of the bed. He couldn’t untie the nomad, not until they could understand each other. He would have to feed him, and hope he didn’t get offended. Tailgate’s hands shook as he held the energon cube up to the nomad’s lips. He should have brought a straw. But then could the nomad even use a straw? His face was handsomely constructed, but those gaps in his cheekplates couldn’t make it easy to drink.

Those red optics seemed to bore into him, but the longer he stared, the less afraid Tailgate became. Tailgate wasn’t sure how long they spent just looking at each other. He really should get his chronometer checked. Slowly the nomad began to drink the energon, his optics never leaving Tailgate’s face. It took a lot of effort not to start squirming, and spill the energon, Hopefully, the nomad couldn’t see his blushing under his face mask.

“I should introduce myself since I have you tied to my berth and all. I mean… uh.” Tailgate vented deeply. It was a good thing the nomad hadn’t shown any sign of understanding what he was saying so far. “Anyway, my name is Tailgate.”

“Tailgate?” The nomad’s voice was deep, and rich. It sent a shiver down his struts.

Couldn't help but laugh. “Yes. Tailgate.” They couldn't understand each other, but it seemed he at least could understand his name.

“Tailgate,” the nomad repeated with a purr of his engines. He settled back onto the berth, and Tailgate realized he had finished the energon already.

“I guess I should go clean this up. Let me know if you need anything.” Tailgate left the berthroom, humming softly as he washed the cube and cleaned up the small living area. He would need to make a trip into the city to replenish his first aid supplies. 

He hated going in during his off shift, the guards and many of the citizens could be quite rude. The old medic, Ratchet, was nice enough under his bluster, though, he was the one who insisted Tailgate had the first aid kit in the first place. He needed to ask him if the nomad would need any more care. And that one archivist he’d met when cleaning up at the archives late one night had been kind to. Orion would know how to find a translation program. He had mentioned something about studying the nomads before.

With that plan in mind, Tailgate checked that he had enough shanix with him and geared himself up for a trip into the city. He opened his front door, only to find the way blocked by a large grey nomad. Even taller than the one in his berth, and far broader this nomad had far more of the decorative jewels and necklaces. Tailgate let out a startled and embarrassing squeak. The nomad looked just as surprised as he was. He’d been about to knock on Tailgate’s door. He must be looking for his friend.

Tailgate took a step back and invited him inside, trying not to shake out of his plating. Hopefully, he could explain why he had the other nomad tied up or this could be very bad.


End file.
